


not the russian way

by HalfAnachronism



Series: Napollya [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: M/M, bad boner timing, illya is pining but it's a manly pining, lots of flirting, spooning happens, they have to share a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfAnachronism/pseuds/HalfAnachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have to share a bed as they await a phone call from Waverly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not the russian way

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to my pal Abby (tumblr user illyaxkuryakin) bc I was like "help me write a high school au for these nerds" and she helped me out but I ended up writing this instead bc I can't do anything right

Well, _that_ was annoying.

It was aggravating enough to have to work with an American, but having that American be cocky as all hell was the icing on the cake. Illya couldn’t stand how goddamn _sassy_ Napoleon was, witty remarks always at the ready, always so sure of himself. It was fun to mess with him, sure, to prove that Cowboy wasn’t perfect, but when all was said and done Napoleon Solo was one annoying son of a bitch.

And the fact that Napoleon was really fucking attractive, well, _that_ was the cherry on top.

Illya wanted to hate him. He really did. He wanted to punch that irritating smile off that irritating face, but whenever he imagined this it always ended with him kissing the smirk off that infuriating mouth. God, that man’s mouth drove Illya insane: it was the source of all his power, the sex, the sarcasm, the whole shabang.

But, unfortunately, no matter how much Illya wanted to hate his new American partner, he only found himself hating himself for being so messed up over this idiot. Napoleon was beautiful, and suave, and Illya couldn’t have him, and _that_ was what was really bothersome.

Now Illya and Napoleon were sharing a hotel room, not-so-patiently awaiting Waverly’s instructions. This hotel room was similar to the one he shared with Gaby, the bedroom consisting of two small beds next to each other. This wouldn’t have been a problem if Napoleon hadn’t accidentally spilled wine all over his own bed, and the couch, and literally everywhere else in the hotel room where he could’ve slept. This left him with one place to sleep: in Illya’s bed. With Illya.

This was going to be fun.

Illya was tempted to just give Napoleon his bed and sleep on the floor, but didn’t say anything. He suspected for a moment that Napoleon did this on purpose, but then shook the idea out of his head. What could Napoleon want from him?

Soon, they were in the tiny bed, both of them with one foot hanging off the small bed. Napoleon was the first to request a change in position: “If we spoon, we’ll fit.”

“No.”

“Come _on,_ Peril, we’ll fit better this way. Don’t you want to spoon me?”

“Teasing me will not help you.”

“Well, I’m turning onto my side whether you do or not.”

“Okay. Have fun with that, Cowboy.”

Napoleon turned onto his side, facing away from Illya. A few minutes passed.

“Kuryakin, I can feel you fidgeting. You know you want to move.”

“I want to punch you, that’s what I want to do.”

Napoleon smiled, but Illya couldn’t see it. “Just roll over, Peril.”

“Not a chance in hell, Cowboy.” But Illya did roll over so that he was on his side, but instead of spooning Napoleon he simply faced the other direction.

“So that’s how it is?” Napoleon teased.

“Yes. That is how it is.”

“We still don’t fit.”

“We’re fine.”

“You leave me no choice.” Napoleon joked as he rolled over. He threw his arm over Illya and spooned him. Illya didn’t move.

“Solo, what the hell are you doing?”

“Saving space. What’re _you_ doing?”

“Fighting the urge to strangle you.”

“And what makes you think that’d be an unenjoyable experience for me?”

Illya groaned in annoyance and pushed his face into the pillow. He could feel Napoleon’s face buried in his back.  He shifted slightly for a second so that he could twist to scratch an itch on his foot, then he fell back into place, and everything was normal for a moment, until he felt Napoleon’s hard-on against his ass.

There was no doubt in Illya’s mind that that was in fact a cock poking him. Both of them were only in t-shirts and underwear, and Illya couldn’t ignore the sensation.

“Napoleon?” Illya whispered.

“Yes?” Napoleon said.

“Um...”

“Yes, I’m hard. You’re hot, and your ass is on my crotch. I am very, very hard.”

“Should we change our... position?”

“Only if we can continue cuddling.”

Illya ignored Napoleon and decided to simply wing it, quickly shifting so that he was on his back yet again. Napoleon saw where he was going, however, and ended up wrapping Illya’s arm around him and lying on his stomach, his head on Illya’s shoulder.

Illya was slightly freaking out. Napoleon, the hottest man he’d ever laid eyes on, was hard for _him_ and was cuddling _him_ and he knew that it probably only meant that Napoleon was losing it after having not fucked anyone in at least two days, but it was still infuriating and insane.

“We’re practically back to where we started now,” Napoleon stated.

“Well, do you have any more bright ideas about how we might conserve space?”

Instead of answering, Napoleon climbed up on top of Illya, straddling him while still lying down. Of course he did.

“Napoleon-”

“I’ve noticed how you’re calling me Napoleon all of a sudden.”

“So?”

“So, maybe that has something to do with that thing poking my thigh.”

Napoleon was propped up on one elbow now, his elbow resting on the pillow, right next to Illya’s head.

“You are one annoying piece of shit, Cowboy.”

“As are you, Peril. But you’re gorgeous. And we have to work together now.”

Illya’s hands crept up to rest on Napoleon’s hips. “Yes we do.”

“Getting ideas, are we, now?”

Illya pushed himself up by his elbows to meet Napoleon’s lips with his. Napoleon followed him back down so that they were both fully lying down. Illya’s hands resumed their place on Napoleon’s hips, slowly sliding down onto his ass as Napoleon deepened the kiss. Illya bit Napoleon’s bottom lip playfully, and Napoleon started to slide down the bed. He found himself pulling Illya’s underwear off.

Then the telephone rang.

They both jumped up to answer it, Illya getting there first. It was Waverly, calling to explain the mission. A few minutes later, Waverly was done debriefing Illya and they hung up.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’ll explain later. Now, where were we?”


End file.
